


Studies in Unconscious Allyship

by SuperKat



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Canon Autistic Character, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Phobias, Season/Series 01, Star Trek References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 22:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperKat/pseuds/SuperKat
Summary: A series of vignettes during which Troy becomes Greendale’s best Neurotypical Autism Ally without trying, or even really knowing what that is.  Includes pencil darts, campus-wide Shatnering, and the literal biggest spider in the world.





	Studies in Unconscious Allyship

**Author's Note:**

> TW: vomiting. Skip the sections marked "emetophobia" if you need to.
> 
> Also some swearing, references to drinking.
> 
> Spoilers through Season 1, with one additional spoiler for Season 3
> 
> Dedicated to [caminante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caminante/pseuds/caminante) for introducing me to this amazing show and coming up with the "elaborate bong as a door-stop" idea.

 

**Visual Representations of Time**

Troy smacks his Spanish book in frustration after Abed pulls his phone out of his bag and glances at it for what must be the fifth or sixth time in ten minutes.  They’re alone in the study room, so the sound is more distracting than it would have been with the whole group around the table.  _“What_ is going on?" Troy snaps.  "Is someone texting you?  Is it–” he cuts himself off, suddenly delighted, then whispers, “Is it a girl?  Is she hot?”

Abed replaces his phone in his bag before furrowing his eyebrows at Troy. “No.  Why?” 

“Your phone!” Troy gestures to Abed’s bag. “You keep looking at it. If you’re waiting for a girl to text back, believe me, I get it.  But trust me on this–”

“It’s not a girl.”  Abed returns his gaze to his open textbook, absently twirling a pencil with one hand.

“Oh,” says Troy, blinking.  “Okay.  That’s cool. I mean…that you’re into that. Yeah. So. I don’t really know the rules about…you know…guys. Because I’m not like that, you know? But I did know a couple of guys who–”

Abed does that thing where he interrupts Troy using only a facial expression.  Troy has never met anyone else who can do that, and it's a little unnerving. Abed tilts his head to one side, looking at Troy like he’s calculating something. 

“It’s not a guy,” he says.

“Okay, I…what?”  Troy shakes his head.  “Is it…like a robot or something?”  He purposely does not say ‘alien,’ because he is _not_ going down that road again. Anyway, it’s probably not an alien.  Right?

“I’m not checking my texts.”

“Oh.”  Troy straightens, thoroughly confused.  “Then what…”

“I’m checking the time.”  Abed holds up his bare wrist for Troy to see. “My watch broke last night, and I don’t want to be late for my film class again.”

Troy nods. “I get it. I hate it when I don’t have my watch.  I’m always forgetting and looking at my wrist, way more often than I do when I’m actually wearing it. But...you _do_ know there’s a clock on the wall behind you, right?”

Abed glances over his shoulder, then returns his gaze to his book with a disorienting speed.  “That’s not a real time.”

“Huh?”

“That’s not a real time,” Abed repeats, staring at his textbook and twirling his pencil faster than before. “That’s a shrinking 120-degree angle on a wall.  Time isn’t that kind of circular.”

“Time isn’t…what?”

There’s another moment of silence, during which Troy wishes he could take his question back.  Abed’s face is as emotionless as ever, but something about him is noticeably more agitated.

“Time doesn’t have a shape,” Abed continues without looking up.  That clarifies nothing, but Troy doesn’t ask again. “Trying to represent it using a two-dimensional circle broken into twelve units of five is arbitrary and meaningless.”  

Troy watches Abed for another few seconds before he returns his gaze to his own textbook. He's never heard anyone talk about time having a shape before. It's starting to wrinkle his brain, and not in a good way. Being friends with Abed has forced Troy to think about things he didn't even know people _could_ think about. _He's like the kaleidoscope of people,_ Troy thinks with a small smile.  He should write that one down.  

Once again, Abed pulls his phone out of his bag, glances at it, and returns it.  Troy continues watching him; Abed, still twirling his pencil, doesn’t seem to notice.  Troy is momentarily amazed by Abed's dexterity, impressed that the pencil hasn’t flown across the room yet.  He finds himself thinking _pencil darts_ but pushes the idea away for later.

“Here,” says Troy, taking off his digital wristwatch and placing it face-up on the table between them.  “We can share mine until you get a new one.”

Abed looks at the watch for a moment, that calculating gaze back on his face.  For a moment, the pencil stops twirling.  “Cool,” he says, nodding.  “Cool cool cool.” 

They return to studying in silence.

 

**Communication Methods**

“Hey,” says Troy, later that same day while they’re walking through the cafeteria.  “I could make you a new watch strap out of duct tape if you want.  I’m pretty good at that.”

Abed shakes his head.  “It’s not the strap." 

“Oh.” They join the lunch line.  “What happened?”

Abed’s reply is quick and emotionless, like he’s reciting something for a test.  “A guy in my dorm asked if he could borrow my watch for a game that he and his friends were playing. When I asked him what game, he said ‘beer pong.’ I don’t really know how beer pong works; it's featured in a lot of high school and college party scenes in movies and TV, but they never actually explain the rules. I didn’t want to seem ignorant, so I said ‘okay’ and gave him my watch.  Then he and his friends started laughing.  I didn’t know why they were all laughing but I usually don’t, so I laughed too.   Then he dropped my watch in his cup.” 

Abed picks up a tray from the stack.  “I didn’t know what was in the cup,” he continues, handing an empty plate to the woman behind the counter. “But judging by the smell and his use of the phrase ‘beer pong,’ I’m guessing it was beer. I asked him to give me my watch back, and then I suggested some less fragile alternatives, you know, things that are small enough to fit into solo cups but lack buoyancy so they’d sink to the bottom right away like my watch did.”  Abed takes his full plate and sets it on the tray.  Troy nearly forgets to do the same with his own.  

Abed barrels on as he collects silverware and a napkin.  “Then he asked me if I wanted my watch back and I said yes.  I wasn’t laughing even though he and all his friends were.  See, by that time I’d figured out that this wasn’t a ‘group-banter’ scenario, but a ‘people picking on me’ scenario, so laughing with them wasn’t going to accomplish anything.” 

Troy follows Abed to an empty table, relieved for some reason that no one else from their study group is in the cafeteria yet.  Abed folds his napkin and tucks it under his plate. “Then he dumped his cup down the front of my shirt and walked away.  So I got my watch back, but it wasn’t working anymore because it had been submerged in alcohol.”

Troy is openly gaping by the time Abed finishes.  In fact, it’s a moment before Troy realizes he had picked up a spoon instead of a fork.  Abed points to Troy’s tray. 

“I don’t think that’ll work with spaghetti.”  Abed’s brow furrows. He studies Troy’s face without making eye-contact in that way he does sometimes.  “Did I give too much detail again?”

“Um.” says Troy. “Does that happen a lot?”

"Yes. I frequently answer questions with more information than people like to have.  I try to filter unnecessary details, but sometimes I forget."

"No."  Troy shakes his head. "I mean, do people mess with you - in a bad way, I mean - a lot?"

Abed shrugs.  “Significantly less often than they did in high school.  The beer was new, obviously. You can’t have that in a high school.  At least, you can’t dump it on people because you’d probably get caught.”

Troy shakes his head.  “Look.” He leans forward.  “Next time something like that happens, text me, alright? I’ll come over.  Guys like that don’t mess with guys like me, and once they see we’re friends?”  Troy emphasizes the word ‘we’re,’ pointing between Abed and himself.  “They’ll back off.”

“Cool,” says Abed while Troy tries and fails to use his spoon to scoop up a clump of pasta.  “Wait a second.”  Abed tilts his head to one side.  “What if they break my phone?”

Troy doesn’t understand why this conversation isn’t making them both sad.  He doesn’t tell Abed to stand up for himself because he does _not_ want to be the reason Abed gets pummeled in his own dorm. “Contact me…in a different way I guess.  Do you use Twitter?”

“Too public.”  The side of Abed’s mouth quirks.  “I’ll send you a telegram like they did in the olden days. _‘Bullied in my dorm again.  Stop.’_ The word ‘stop’ having a double meaning, in this case.” 

“Or…” Troy grins, “we could do that shit they used to do with campfires.  Smoke signals.”

Abed points at him.  “Carrier pigeons.”

“Long range spitballs with messages inside.”

“Would you want to open a wad of paper covered in my saliva?” Abed asks, his brow furrowed, just as Jeff joins them at the table.

“Well,” says Jeff, “ _that_ was an awkward time to enter this conversation.”

Troy gets up to get a fork.

 

**Meltdowns 101**

Troy is leaving practice one afternoon a few weeks later when he hears a high-pitched wailing like an animal in pain.  He wonders if a bird flew into the library window again and decides to investigate.

He discovers the source of the sound sitting alone in the grass, knees drawn up to his chest, hands wringing.  Abed’s eyes are closed, his head shaking from side to side.

“Whoa.” Troy drops his backpack and crouches by Abed's side.  “Hey.  It’s me. It’s Troy.  Are you okay?” Stupid question; Abed is clearly _not_ okay.

Abed opens his eyes, sees Troy, then closes them again, keening and shaking his head vigorously.  He starts to rock in place.  Troy looks him over for signs of injury but finds nothing.

“Whatever happened,” said Troy, while trying to decide if he should grip Abed's shoulder or give him more space or what.  “I’ll help.  I’ll beat someone up, or yell at someone, or…that’s pretty much all I’m good at except football and cooking certain recipes and making things out of duct tape.”  He pauses for a moment, but nothing changes.  “Or, you know, I can just sit here. That’s cool.  But if you want me to leave you alone, that’s…” Troy thinks for a moment.  “If you want me to leave, tap your foot.  Otherwise I’ll stay.” 

Troy waits and watches.  No response.  He nods, then remembers that even Abed can’t see with his eyes closed. 

“Okay,” Troy says, shifting so that he too is hugging his knees to his chest.  “I’m here if you need anything.”

 

**Meltdowns 102**

“Hey,” says Troy when he notices the sun starting to set.  “We should probably leave soon.”  Abed isn’t making sounds, hasn’t been for a while, but he also hasn’t spoken or responded to anything since Troy found him here.  Troy starts to climb to his feet, not sure if Abed heard him or if he can even walk right now.  Should Troy help him stand up?  He’s trying to figure out what to do when Abed opens his eyes, stands, and picks up his messenger bag without a word.

As they walk, Troy marvels at the fact that silence isn’t awkward with Abed like it is with other people.  Troy doesn’t like that Abed’s hurting; in fact, he secretly hopes that fixing whatever is wrong _does_ involve beating someone up because Troy would really enjoy that.  Still, it’s nice to have a silence that doesn’t feel weird or oppressive.  Just…Troy and Abed walking.

Abed unlocks the door to his room but otherwise doesn’t interact with anything or anyone.  Troy, having spent their walk looking around with a glare that he hopes was menacing enough, once again finds himself unsure what to do.

“Do you…” he asks after a moment of silence that _does_ feel awkward, “want me to make Special Drink?”

There’s a long silence as Abed slowly sets his messenger bag on the floor.  Troy has time to wonder if he should repeat the question or just make Special Drink or turn on the TV or call Abed’s dad or leave or what.  He’s about to ask again (maybe with ‘blink twice for no’ or something) when Abed nods.  Troy grins, feeling himself lighten.

“Awesome,” he says. “Can I make some for myself too?”

This time, there’s a shorter pause before Abed nods.

 

**Meltdowns 103**

Troy wakes up the next morning in the bottom bunk of Abed’s bed.  The first thing he sees is Abed, awake and dressed, sitting on the couch, staring at the floor and twiddling his thumbs.  Unsure what to say, Troy pushes himself up, careful not to hit his head on the top bunk.  Abed looks at him without making eye-contact, then looks back at the floor.  Troy’s heart sinks.

“You’re still in your clothes from yesterday.”  Abed breaks the silence, his voice low. 

Troy scoffs, grateful that he sounds more confident than he feels. “Like I’ve never done _that_ before.”  Abed does make eye-contact this time, his brow furrowed.  Oh.  Right. “I do it a lot,” Troy says.

“I’d let you borrow some of my clothes, but I don’t think they’d fit you.”

Troy holds back a comment comparing his football player’s build to Abed’s stack of toothpicks.  “It’s okay,” he says, shrugging. “No one will notice. That guy in bio goes like a month at a time without changing his clothes.”

“Three weeks, usually,” said Abed.  “Give or take a day or two.  He’s not consistent.”  Troy grins.

They’re about to leave when Abed says, “Hey.”  Troy, his hand on the doorknob, looks over his shoulder. Abed is frowning at his own shoes, one hand gripping the strap of his messenger bag and the other fidgeting by his side. 

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.  For yesterday.”

“Oh.”  Troy shrugs, keeping his expression as casual as possible. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It happens sometimes,” Abed continues, his expression unreadable.

“Okay.”  Troy lets go of the doorknob and turns to face Abed, who still isn't looking at him.  “What should I do next time?”

“It depends on the circumstances, I guess,” says Abed.  He thinks for a moment, then looks Troy in the eye. “Do you mean that? 

“Of course.”

“Okay.  In that case…don’t stop talking to me.” 

“You mean,” Troy frowns, “just...keep talking?  Like you’re supposed to do if someone hits their head or something?”

Abed’s smile is small, even for him, but it’s enough to brighten Troy’s mood. “No.  I mean don’t stop being friends with me just because I glitch sometimes.”

Troy doesn’t know what that word means, but it’s clearly not the point.  “What? Why would I stop being friends with you over _that_?”

Abed shrugs.  “People usually do.”

“Well, people,” Troy sputters.  “Are dumb.  Dumber than me.  And that’s…” _Saying something._ “I knew these two guys in my high school who used to beat each other up all the time. Once, I saw one of them hit the other one in the _balls_.  And they were best friends.  They went to college together! I stayed friends with you when I thought you were _an actual alien._   You wanna scare me off, you gotta do more than klatch.”

“Glitch.” Abed is still smiling.

“Whatever.”

 

**Meltdowns 301**

(Troy doesn’t find out what caused that particular episode until two years later, during their and Annie’s first dinner as official roommates. Abed mentions a TV show that was “a flawed but important science fiction exploring the complexities of free will and the human condition.”  Apparently, at the time it was almost certain that the show would be canceled.  That day, Abed had overheard two film students calling it ‘total garbage.’  At Roommate Initiation Dinner, Abed manages to quote their entire conversation word-for-word, during which they had insulted the intelligence of anyone who had ever enjoyed it at all.  Annie and Troy agree that this opinion is extreme even for the worst shows out there. 

“What was the show?”  Annie asks.  “If you don’t mind telling us.”

“It’s called ‘Dollhouse,’” Abed replies.)

 

**Makeshift Recreational Projectiles**

“Bullseye!”

Troy whoops while Abed makes a fist in the air, mouthing ‘nice.’  Abed goes to pick up his three pencils while Troy admires the latest mark on their target board, the back of a Spanish test which has been taped to the wall of the study room. 

“I think I like the number twos better than the colored pencils,” Abed says.  Troy considers this for a moment before he adjusts his footing behind the masking tape line on the floor.  “Better grip.”

Troy also manages to mark the center of the paper, and they both cheer.  Jeff, Britta, and Pierce enter the study room just as Troy is taking careful aim with his second pencil.

“Um,” says Jeff.  “Nope. Never mind. It’s self-explanatory.”  Pierce scoffs and sits down.

“So you don’t want a turn?” Abed asks them.  Jeff and Pierce roll their eyes in unison. 

“I’ll try it,” says Britta.  Abed nods once. 

“Colored or number two?”

Pierce snickers.

 

 **Introduction to Scenery Chewing**  

Troy and Abed are crossing the quad one day when some random guy passes them, looks at Abed, and yells “Shatner!”  Just as Troy is wondering if this will be his chance to punch someone in the face, Abed claps his hand to his forehead and starts exaggerating his walk.

“Green. Dale,” says Abed, as the guy doubles over laughing. “Place of hopes.  And dreams. Bad Chinese food every.  Other. Friday.”  He clutches the strap of his messenger bag with both hands, throwing his head back and shouting at the sky: “How does one mess up fried rice so badly?  It’s rice! You fry it!”  He adopts a series of facial expressions that range from amusing to mildly terrifying. Then, just as suddenly as he had started, he stops.  His expression returns to normal (Abed-normal), he and the guy exchange finger guns, and they keep walking as if nothing had happened.

Troy has a moment of thinking _he’s not wrong_ , before he runs to catch up.  “So.”  He says to Abed.  “Um.  What?”

“He Shatnered me,” says Abed.  “A bunch of people in the dorm started doing it to each other.  Want to join in?" 

Troy has never heard of Shatnering.  He has no clue what it is, and he's pretty sure his guesses are all wrong because nothing about what just happened involves butts in any way.  “What?” 

“Shatnering,” says Abed.  “It’s a reference to William Shatner, the lead actor in the original series of Star Trek.  He was famous for overacting his scenes.  Whenever someone says ‘Shatner’ to you, you’re supposed to immediately overact whatever you’re doing.  It’s fun.  Want to try it?”

 _Yes._   “Um,” says Troy, looking around to make sure there aren't any hot girls nearby.  “Sure.”

“Cool.  Shatner.”

Troy has no idea what he’s going to do until he does it.  He throws himself on the grass and hits the ground with his fists, shouting, “So much homework!  Why? Donde estas four pages of reading! Why do Jehovah and Chang hate their students so much?  Why?” 

He fake sobs into the grass until hears the dude, now halfway across the quad, yelling, “Nice!” 

“Like that?” he asks Abed.  Abed gives him a nod of approval, and they keep walking. Troy feels oddly energized and liberated for some reason. That happens a lot with Abed. 

It happens again from time to time over the next several weeks.  Troy likes it best when he and Abed get Shatnered together, like that time when a girl from the fourth floor (Charise, Troy learns later, is her name) Shatners them while they’re getting snacks from the vending machine.  Troy collapses to his knees and sobs loudly about the number of M&M options while Abed presses the buttons with the intensity of one trying to diffuse a bomb. 

They get her back later that week when they pass her at a drinking fountain, and she immediately starts to pound the sides of it with her fists.  She stops suddenly, then addresses the faucet with a quiet intensity that is almost startling.

“We’re human beings with the blood of a million savage years on our hands.  But we can stop it. We can admit that we’re killers.”  Charise pauses, straightening and backing up a step.  “But we’re not going to kill today. That’s all it takes! Knowing that we’re not going to kill.  Today!”

“Um,” says a woman behind her.  “Are you done with the fountain? I gotta get to class, and I’m really thirsty.”

“A Taste of Armageddon,” says Abed, as Charise steps aside for the woman to get a drink.  “Nice.”

A few times, Troy sees people Shatnering Abed when he’s on his own.  It’s hilarious, especially that one time when Britta thinks Abed’s having a seizure.  Troy and Abed get Shatnered together a few times, but it never happens to Troy on his own.  He doesn’t mind.

The Shantering goes on until one day in the library when Pierce launches into one of his rants about his ex-wives. A group of people from Abed’s dorm pass by just as Pierce says, “Women are uncontrollable nut jobs; can’t live with ‘em, can’t trap ‘em in the freezer, that’s what I say. Am I right, boys?”  He chuckles to himself.

“Hey,” says the girl in the middle of the group.  “I didn’t know you were playing, too.”

“Nice,” says the girl to her left, while the one guy in the group nods his approval.  “Authentic, later years Shatner.  That approach really works for you.”

“Yeah-” Troy starts to say, just as Abed corrects them. 

“He’s not playing.  He’s just naturally sexist.”

Troy covers his eyes with his hand as the first girl says, “Wait, so you _didn’t_ Shatner him?”

“What?” Pierce growls.  “D’you think I’m too old to know who William Shatner is? I was watching that series before you were a ‘come hither’ gleam in your mother’s eye.  I could Shatner the pants off any one of you, especially Uhura over here.”  The girl in the middle (who is actually Cambodian, Troy learns later) gasps as Troy tries to will himself into the floor.  “You millennials ruin everything!” Pierce shouts, pounding the door to the study room with his fist before storming inside and throwing his books on the table with a loud _slap._  

There’s an uncomfortable silence.  Then Abed says, “See you later,” to the group as if nothing had happened.  After that, the Shatnering tapers off until eventually it stops altogether.

 

**Peace Be With You**

It’s cool, that time before winter break when Abed gets picked on by winter doodle guy.  Not ‘cool’ as in ‘okay’ – because it’s definitely not at all okay – but cool because Jeff is standing between them before Troy even has the chance to get out of his seat. It’s cool because Abed is delighted to have a “bodyguard” like something that apparently happens in a bunch of movies. It’s cool that no one mentions the fact that Abed used to get bullied all the time and probably never had anyone stand up for him like this, because that’s so far from the case now that it’s beside the point.  It’s cool because after the brawl, Abed is clearly ecstatic, doing that thing where he talks rapidly without taking a breath until Troy worries he’s going to pass out. It’s cool because when Abed finally does stop talking, Troy says, “That was the best fight I’ve ever been in in my life,” and it doesn’t even matter that this is the _second_ fight he’s ever been in (counting that time he got punched in the face).  Abed looks at him and says, “Salaam alaikum,” then laughs for some reason, then they do their special handshake and Shirley starts singing and it’s _awesome._

  

**Meltdowns 104**

Abed has another breakdown early spring semester, when Troy is spending the night in his dorm.  They’ve been planning to watch the newest episode of Cougar Town, but when Abed turns on the TV, they realize the schedule has been pushed back for the NFL playoffs and _crap_ Troy should have seen this coming. Part of him is fine just watching the game, but one look at Abed’s face and football vanishes from his mind.

“Hey,” he says, keeping a smile on his face as Abed shakes his head, that high pitched whine steadily growing in volume.  “It’s okay.  You have a ton of movies I’ve never even heard of.  Tell you what…I’ll get your box of movies, and you can pick one to watch instead.  Okay?" 

It's a long, heart-wrenching minute before Abed calms down.  He takes a few breaths and nods vigorously, wringing his hands.  “Okay.” 

They drink about 6 cups each of Special Drink while watching all the Rocky movies back-to-back, then spend the rest of the night boxing, with bath towels and sheets wrapped around their hands.  They go to bed at sunrise and end up sleeping through all their classes the next day.  

 

**Kids These Days**

“At the drop of a hat.”

“I hate that one,” Troy agrees. “Why does it mean ‘fast?’ You drop your hat; you pick it up.  That takes _more time_ than if you hadn’t dropped it.  Or you could just not wear a hat at all.  Problem solved.”  Troy thinks for a moment.  “Okay, I got one: hold your horses.”

“Ridiculous.”  Abed nods. “Take with a grain of salt.”

“What does that even mean?  Beat around the bush.”

“I don’t even like when people _do_ that.   Kick the bucket.”

“Now _that_ sounds like fun,” says Troy.  “What’s in the bucket?”

“It means ‘die.’”

“ _What?”_

 

**Strategies for Achieving Narrative Balance**

“I was thinking,” says Abed one day as they’re walking to his dorm for a night of marathoning 30 Rock.  “Since you faced one of your deepest fears in order to help me save our project – and Fivel’s life – it’s only fair that I tell you what _my_ deepest fears are, to even the score.  It’s highly unlikely that a situation will come up in which I need to face my fears to help you, so we’ll have to achieve narrative balance another way.”

“Okay,” says Troy.  “But you don’t have to…" 

“It’s fine,” says Abed. “My biggest one is ‘emetophobia,’ which means fear of vomiting. That’s one of the reasons why it’s so easy for me to adhere to the Muslim commandment against drinking even though the first year of college is traditionally a time of rebellion and substance abuse.  The fear of making myself so drunk that I throw up is greater than my desire to honor the major pillars of Freshman year.  That time with Jeff was the only exception, and that was for artistic reasons.”  Abed fixes Troy with a serious stare.  “But if it was ever vitally important to you that I get drunk enough to vomit or eat something that’s not likely to remain in my stomach, I would do it.  For you.” 

That’s…actually really sweet.  “Aw,” says Troy.  “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” says Abed, before opening the door to his building, which has been propped for several weeks with the most elaborate bong that Troy has ever seen. “One other thing.  Remember Jorani? One of the people involved in the Shatnering before Pierce ruined it by somehow managing to make an offensive comparison to Lieutenant Uhura?”

Troy looks around to make sure that Jorani isn’t anywhere in earshot.  “Yeah.”

“She asked me out a few months ago, and-”

“She _what?!”_ Troy grabs Abed by the elbow.  “Why didn’t you say anything? This is the kind of stuff you’re supposed to _tell_ me.”

“I know,” Abed replies.  “But I said no because it would never have worked between us.  You see, I’m terrified to go into her room.”

“I feel that,” says Troy.  “Girls have some scary shit.”

“No,” says Abed. He thinks for a moment.  “It’s probably better if I show you.” 

They take a brief detour to a room on the opposite end of the hall, with the word “JORANI” on the front in the same orange paper as the label on Abed’s door. Troy feels goosebumps on his arms and neck as Abed knocks. It’s a moment before Jorani answers.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”  Abed has fixed his gaze resolutely on the opposite end of the hall. “Jeremy Rael splurged on some authentic Trader Joe’s coffee for the whole dorm.  It’s in the common room if you want some.”

“Aw,” says Jorani.  “That’s so sweet. Thanks.”

Troy looks over her shoulder.  Her room looks like a typical dorm room, so it’s a moment before he notices it. Up on the far wall is one of those surf board clocks without any numbers on it.  It has a bright green turtle below the words “SURF CALIFORNIA” in orange block letters. The hour and minute hands are silhouettes of palm trees and the second hand, painted neon yellow, spins in a slow, steady circle.  It’s actually kind of cool, except…Troy glances at Abed. Yeah.  Okay.  No. 

“Well,” says Abed.  “See you around.”

“See ya.”

“Did you see it?” Abed whispers to Troy as they’re walking to his room.

“Yeah,” says Troy.  “That was...”

"I know. It's given me so many nightmares."  Abed unlocks his door with hands that, Troy realizes, are shaking.  He sets down his bag and flops onto the couch, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"You didn't have to show me that," says Troy, briefly wondering if Abed is headed toward another meltdown.

“I know." Abed shrugs.  "But this is what friends do, right?”

 _No. Yeah. Maybe?_ Being friends with Abed means needing to define things that have never required definition before. Troy was one of the most popular people in his graduating class, yet only now is he realizing how much he doesn't actually know.

"Sure," he says, flopping on the couch next to Abed as Abed switches the TV on. "Thanks." 

 

**Intermediate Social Interaction**

They try out a system where Troy uses hand signals to alert Abed to social cues.  Scratching his eyebrow means someone is being sarcastic; tapping his chin twice means 'too much information;' grabbing his ear means 'I need to tell you something but I can’t say it aloud right now.' Except most of the time Troy is standing next to Abed where he can’t be easily seen, or Abed sees the signal but doesn’t know what to do about it, or Troy misses a cue, or something else goes wrong.  Then there’s that one time in the library when Troy’s eyebrow genuinely itches while some guy is talking about his grandmother’s death.  Looking back, Troy is grateful that Abed’s reaction didn’t get him punched in the face.  They “debrief” (Abed’s word) later and decide it’s best to abandon the system and let things play out as they will.

 

**Emetophobia**

The cafeteria serves hamburger helper one day; Troy misses out because someone plays “Come Sail Away” on their phone while he’s at his locker, so he spends fifteen minutes in a bathroom stall calming himself down.  He’s disappointed at the time, but later that afternoon a ton of people start getting sick.  Troy finds Annie and Jeff in the study room groaning and resting their heads on the table. Shirley sits praying over a trash can, clutching her stomach while Britta rubs her back. Pierce is nowhere to be seen.  For that matter, neither is…

Shit.

“Don’t bother,” Jeff slur-yells at Troy as he whirls around and starts running for the nearest men’s room.  “All the stalls are taken.  And good luck finding an unused trash can!” 

Troy worries that he’s going to have to check multiple bathrooms full of guys throwing up, but as luck would have it, he finds what he’s searching for on the first try.  Over the sound of coughing and retching, he can hear a familiar high-pitched keen in the largest stall.

“Abed?” he says.  “Is that you?” No response.  Troy pushes past the man gagging over the trash bin, slides on his stomach under the stall door, and finds his best friend kneeling next to the toilet bowl.  Abed is clutching the sides of his head and whimpering.   

“Hey, buddy,” says Troy in his best soothing voice.  “Hey. It’s okay.  You’re gunna be fine.”  He hesitates for a moment, then starts rubbing circles on Abed’s back.  “I know it’s scary, but the sooner you let it out, the sooner you’ll feel better, okay?  I’m right here.  You’re gunna be okay.”  Abed gulps but keeps wailing.  Troy thinks for a moment. 

 _“Somewhere out there,”_ he sings, tentative at first but growing in volume. _“Beneath the pale moonlight._ _Someone’s thinking of me, and loving me tonight.”_  

He keeps going, his confidence boosted by the fact that no one else can hear him over their own retching and the near-constant sound of toilets flushing.  Abed gradually relaxes.  Finally, Troy watches in triumph as Abed leans forward and vomits into the toilet.

  

**Emetophobia Part 2**

“Almost there, buddy,” says Troy, helping Abed into the study room.  He’s relieved to see that the couch is still empty, so he leads Abed there and helps him lie down on his side.  Troy crouches next to Abed, who is wordless but no longer wailing.  His breath smells _awful._   Behind him, Britta is wiping the back of Annie’s neck with what looks like a damp rag.  She makes eye-contact with Troy, who nods.

“Okay,” he says to Abed.  “Tap once for ‘no,’ twice for ‘yes,’ and three times for ‘Troy is awesome.’  Okay?”

 Abed taps his index finger twice on the couch cushion.

“Okay.  Do you feel like you’re gunna puke again?”

One tap.  That’s good, because everything that could possibly be used as a vomit-receptacle has been taken.

“Do you want some water?”

One tap.

“Do you want me to stay with you until you can walk to your dorm?" 

Pause.  Two taps.

“Okay.”  Troy turns around and sits with his back to the couch.  In the silence that follows (save Jeff’s moaning and Shirley’s continuous prayer), he adds _hamburger helper_ to his mental list of _Greendale Foods to Never Even Touch Ever_.  He wonders if he should get a box of the Betty Crocker stuff to make for the group (Troy’s a decent cook, truth be told) but immediately dismisses the idea as one of the worst he’s ever had.  He now knows first-hand that the stuff looks almost exactly the same after it comes back up.

Something taps his shoulder rapidly, too many times to count.  Troy looks at Abed, alarmed.  “You okay, buddy?” 

Tap.  Tap.  Tap. 

“Yeah,” Troy replies, grinning.  “I know.”

 

**Australian Arachnology**

The spider that’s sitting on the study room table when Troy walks in is easily larger than his hand.  _Easily._   It's about the size of a small puppy, and just as furry, but _far_ less cute.  Black and brown and hideous, it stands there looking at him all like: _Hey, this is my home now; Imma destroy everything you love._ Jeff and Annie are cowering in the far corner, Annie holding one of her textbooks in front of them both like a shield.  

Troy screams. After a brief blackout, he finds himself on the floor, crawling on his stomach toward the safe haven that his friends have created.  And yeah, he’s sobbing. Literally everyone else is too.  There is no possible way anyone could-

“Hey guys.”  Abed walks into the room, stopping when he sees the three of them crying in the corner.  Jeff points to the table with a hand that is shaking violently.  Abed looks, raising his eyebrows when he notices the spider.  Troy sobs and maybe pees a little bit.

Without another word, Abed takes off his messenger bag, roots through it for a few seconds, and pulls out a textbook and a folder.  As Annie hides her face in Troy’s shoulder, Abed approaches the table, then uses the folder to nudge the spider onto the book.  Troy has no idea how his hands are so steady as he lifts the abomination and starts to _carry it out of the room._

“Don’t do this, man,” Troy whispers, his voice hoarse, tears streaming down his cheeks.  “It’s not worth it.”  Abed doesn’t hear him. 

Just before Abed reaches the door, the spider charges.  Troy hears Abed mutter “whoops” when it reaches his hand.

When Troy comes to, he's laying on his side on the couch.  He can hear people crying.  Abed crouches in front of him, his hands mercifully empty.

“Hey buddy,” says Abed, smiling.  “Hey.  You’re okay. I took it back to the arachnology department.  They apologized and locked all the cages.  Everything’s fine now. It won’t happen again.”  Later, it will occur to Troy that Abed was doing an impression of _him_ taking care of Abed during a meltdown.  For the moment, he closes his eyes and thanks Jehovah for sending this beautiful creature to rid them of such a monstrosity.

 

**Autism Spectrum Disorder**

Troy overhears someone calling Abed “ass burgers” again during their biology final.  Abed doesn’t seem to care, so Troy doesn’t say anything.  It’s weird, though, that multiple people have said that about him.  Troy can think of several people who fit that nickname far better than Abed, including the guy who made the comment this time.

After the exam, Troy looks up the phrase “ass burgers.”  There’s a few weird porn sites that he may or may not need to visit later tonight, but nothing that answers his question.  At Google’s suggestion, he changes his search to “Asperger’s.”  Nothing that Troy reads tells him anything useful that he hasn’t already figured out, so he gives up and searches for “cats falling off things” on YouTube.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have never seen Seasons 4-6, so I apologize if this was not compliant with them for some reason.


End file.
